


The Prime Minister's Pet

by sarkywoman



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Amnesia, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2007-07-15
Updated: 2007-07-15
Packaged: 2018-08-13 01:35:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7957048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarkywoman/pseuds/sarkywoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written about 9 years ago as a response to an amnesiac rent-boy!Doctor challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He could admit it to himself, if not anybody else. It was a bit of a thrill to work for the Prime Minister of Great Britain. Even though his was an entirely unofficial position, there was exhilaration in being employed by the most powerful man in Britain. That and Harry Saxon was hardly a chore. Charming, caring and sexy as hell, John could think of worse people to ply his trade to. He considered himself lucky that he’d been taken in. It was probably one of Harry’s kinks, to play the generous benefactor for a pretty face and get laid in return. Either way, it was a huge step up from the men he’d been with before, the guys who had ‘looked after him’ when he’d found himself homeless, penniless and worst of all, without a single memory to call his own. 

But those men were imprisoned now, Harry had assured him. They’d been planning something illegal, Harry wouldn’t give details. Which was to be expected, the Prime Minister could hardly hand out delicate information to his rent boy. No matter how much he pampered and praised said rent boy.

John Smith stretched his arms up above his head and groaned with satisfaction at the movement. He’d been lying here for an hour now, waiting for his Master. The bed was comfortable, but that was hardly the point. John wanted to feel like he was earning his keep. 

The door opened and he sat up expectantly, but it wasn’t Harry. It was his wife, carrying a pile of clothes into the room. She shot John a venomous glare and put the clothes on a chair by the bed. “How goes the prostitution?” she asked in icy tones that should really only be used at civilised dinner parties.

John just smiled and shook his head. He wouldn’t rise to it, not when he could feel her jealousy and her loneliness. He knew how difficult it must be for her to rank second in her husband’s affections. He was half-guilty about it and half-proud of it. But even if he didn’t feel for Saxon, he could never go back to selling himself to just anybody now. He’d gotten used to the man’s style and class.

Before he could ask Lucy what the clothes were for, she left him alone. He picked through the pile curiously. A long brown coat and brown suit, a pair of weathered trainers. They couldn’t be for him. While John thought he could probably make the ensemble work in a cute and quirky way, Harry wouldn’t like it. He preferred John in tight clothes or black clothes or his clothes. The looks Lucy gave him when she saw him wandering around in her husband’s dressing gown…

Then the man he’d been waiting for hurried in through the door, immediately throwing off his suit jacket and loosening his tie before he even noticed John’s presence. When he did though, he smiled darkly and beckoned with a finger. He was in one of those moods, then.

John slid off of the bed as gracefully as he could manage and crawled over to where his Master stood. Putting his hands on the expensive Italian shoes, he looked up submissively at his Master’s face. He said nothing, waiting for the cue so he could figure out what game they were playing this afternoon.

Fingers clad in black leather caressed his cheek and ruffled his hair. “I need you to do something for me.”

John nodded. “Anything, Master.”

Harry’s eyes closed and he groaned slightly. He liked it when John called him that. He opened his eyes again and smiled down at his pet. “We’re going to enjoy ourselves this evening. But I’m going to insist on a few things first.”

“Happy to obey, Master.”

Saxon bit his lip. “Mmm. If you don’t stop that I’m going to have to ravage you before we even get to what I have planned.”

John wrapped his arms around the Prime Minister’s legs and pressed his chin against his thigh. “I could live with that,” he said with a cheeky grin.

“Don’t tempt me. This is important.” He pulled away and John let him go, watching him sit on the end of the bed, then following him there, sitting by his feet. Harry held out his hands and John removed his gloves, holding the leather close to his chest while his Master spoke. “We’ll have dinner, a few bottles of wine, and then I am going to worship your delightful little body.” He leant down and kissed John slowly and deeply. “But there are a couple of other…issues.”

“I trust you. You can do anything you want with me.” He did trust him, this hypnotic, alluring man who had the love of an entire nation. John was pretty sure he must have voted for Saxon, if he’d been in the position to vote.

“Alright, but can I film it?”

“Film it? Who wants to see it?” John bit absent-mindedly on one of Harry’s gloves as he thought about it. “Is it someone important? You can tell me, you know.”

Harry watched him carefully for a moment, clearly considering whether he could divulge this information. “Promise not to tell?” he asked, tugging the glove from John’s mouth.

“Promise. Sorry about the bitemarks,” he said, nervously eyeing the dents in the leather.

“That’s okay,” Saxon said examining his gloves, “It’ll remind me of your mouth next time I’m wearing them. But if you must know, I intend to show it to a prisoner. A Captain who knows more than he’s letting on. He might be a little more communicative with the right motivation.”

John’s face scrunched up cutely as he tried to understand. “Sorry, you’re trying to bribe him with home-made porn?”

“Something like that. He’ll definitely get off on it, I’m certain of that. But you are the key to his lock. You look like a special friend of his, you see? Enough of a resemblance that he won’t doubt it. Not with the clothes, too.” He gestured to the clothes that John browsed through earlier.

“I wondered what they were for.” John sighed and sat down fully on the floor. “I don’t know, Harry. It seems a little… unethical.”

Saxon nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry I asked you.” He stood up and was at the door by the time John had scrambled to his feet.

He flung his arms around him. “You don’t have to go!” He pressed kisses to the back of the shirt desperately. “Please stay, Master.” John felt a satisfaction at the shiver that ran through the Prime Minister’s body.

The man turned with a smile and took him into his arms, kissing him gently on the forehead. “It isn’t punishment, sweetheart. Business calls. If we aren’t going to get to the Captain through you, other measures have to be put in place.”

“What other measures?” John asked with a suspicious frown.

“Well, I don’t like to say this to you, but torture is probably the only other option.” Harry looked apologetic, at least.

“So if I don’t help you, you’ll hurt someone?” John asked, dismayed.

“Don’t put it like that! I don’t want you thinking this has anything to do with you. I should never have asked in the first place. It’s my fault, mixing business and pleasure.” Harry kissed him again. “You just chill out around here, I’ll be back later, okay?”

John grabbed his wrist to stop him going out the door. “I’ll help you with your show.”

Harry’s gleeful expression made John feel slightly better about the whole thing. “Brilliant! It’ll be nice to go a day without having to hurt someone. I’ll brief you on our roles.”

“Roles?”

“Yes. You will be playing a man known only as ‘The Doctor’.”

*

Captain Jack Harkness stopped tugging at his chains when he heard his cell door open. He heard the wheels before he saw the television on a trolley being wheeled towards him by the psychopathic Time Lord. Jack wasn’t really worried about his own wellbeing, it was the others he feared for. Martha might have escaped, but her family and more importantly, the Doctor, were here. They weren’t immortal, but they were all in the hands of this maniac.

Jack watched with mild curiosity as the Master set up the television and connected his camera to it. Clearly he’d done something he was proud of and wanted an audience. He pulled out a bucket and wrenched the plastic lid off. “Popcorn?” he offered as the screen flickered into life. Without waiting for a response, he shoved popcorn into Jack’s mouth roughly. “Toffee. It’s the best.”

Jack managed to swallow the dry mouthful. “What is this?” he asked. The screen showed a well-decorated bedroom. 

“Sssh, watch and find out.”

A familiar figure entered the shot and sat on the bed. Jack gasped. “Doctor.”

The Master frowned at him and turned up the volume. Jack was so happy to hear the friendly voice that it took him a minute to notice the words.

~…don’t know if I should be doing this. No, that’s a lie. I know I shouldn’t, but, I just can’t help myself. And I hate myself for it because you’re insane, you have poor Jack in a bloody cell and god knows where Martha is…~

Then the Master appeared on the screen, walking slowly over to the Doctor and cupping his face tenderly in both hands. He was wearing those damned leather gloves. Those gloves had prodded Jack’s open wounds and now they were pushing the Doctor’s coat from his shoulders and removing his glasses gently. More alarming, the Doctor made no move to stop him. When the Master stepped back, the Doctor stood and followed him, pressing against his body wantonly to be rewarded with a kiss.

“What did you do to him?” Jack asked, horrified, unable to believe that this could be his Doctor on the screen, willingly participating in this madness.

“Nothing he didn’t want,” the Master said, happily munching on some popcorn. “If you watch, you’ll find out.”

Jack watched his Doctor – his noble, righteous Doctor – unbutton the genocidal Prime Minister’s shirt and push it to the floor. Then another kiss, where Saxon reciprocated the favour, undoing the Doctor’s shirt then running hands over his skin teasingly. 

~Can’t unbutton your trousers with these gloves on.~

~Then how on Earth do you go to the toilet?~

~Take ‘em off, generally. Could you?~

The Master held his hands up and the Doctor pulled one off the traditional way, then tugged the other off with his teeth. The look he gave the Master was pure lust. 

~I don’t think I can be patient. I’ve waited so long.~

The Master slid his hands up the Doctor’s thighs, to his crotch and started to undo the fly of his trousers. 

~The dear Captain didn’t relieve the tension, then?~

Jack’s felt a spike of nervous excitement as his name was brought up. What would be said? Nothing good or the Master wouldn’t be showing him this.

~You know you’re the only one for me. Jack could never be what you are to me. Could never do what you do to me.~

The Master let the Doctor’s trousers fall to his ankles and groped him through his boxers. 

~You know you can’t make me let him go, don’t you? Him or Martha Jones, when I find her.~

The Doctor was gasping and pressing into the Master’s hand.

~I know.~

The Master started to bite and lick at the Doctor’s neck and shoulder, still massaging the Doctor’s crotch.

~So why come to me like this? What can you possibly hope to achieve?~

Jack was ashamed to acknowledge it, but this display of the Doctor’s sexual submission was turning him on. And since his clothes had been taken by the guards this evening, the Master would be able to tell the second he took his eyes off the screen. But judging from the way the Prime Minister licked his lips, he was enjoying the programming far too much to be distracted by Jack.

~I need you. I’ve always needed you. I want you to take me, fuck me, hold me, do me, anything you want. I want to be yours. I don’t want this responsibility, Master, I just want you.~

The Master shoved the Doctor back onto the bed. The Doctor kicked off his shoes, trousers and pulled off his boxers, exposing his erection to the Master’s hungry gaze. The Master reached down to the floor and picked up a tie.

~Now what do you want me to do with this, I wonder? Would you let me tie you up, making you completely helpless?~

The Doctor nodded eagerly, the lust in his eyes increasing tenfold. He held his wrists out together, and both men watched the material wrap around and around. The almost tender dominance was quickly replaced with a blur of movement from the Master, after which the Doctor’s hands were pressed hard against the frame of the bed, the Master straddling him and the Doctor arching up against the man’s expensive trousers.

“Why are you making me watch this?” Jack asked painfully, watching as this wanton puppet of his Doctor writhed beneath the Master, moaning in ecstasy.

“Sssh, no talking in the theatre,” Saxon snapped, his breathing heavy.

Jack wanted to close his eyes. He didn’t want to watch as the Master sat back and invited the Doctor to undo his trousers with his teeth, since his hands were tied behind his back. He didn’t want to be the kind of pervert who accidentally groaned as the Doctor knelt down low and did it. But he couldn’t help himself. This was the hottest porn he’d seen in his long lifetime, immoral or not.

~Oh, Doctor. You have no idea what you do to me.~

In argument, the Doctor merely raised an eyebrow and nuzzled the Master’s crotch, making the man thrust and tug gently at the Doctor’s hair. But he regained his composure and climbed off the bed, fully removing his trousers and underwear before sitting back down and pulling the naked Doctor into his lap. 

~You would do anything for me. Say it.~

Jack silently willed the Doctor of a few hours ago not to say it. Begged him not to. 

~I would do anything for you, Master.~

~And you would forgive anything, wouldn’t you?~

The Master took the Doctor’s erection into his hand and stroked slowly from base to tip. The Doctor moaned.

~Anything. Everything’s forgiven, Master. Could never hate you.~

The Master smiled with satisfaction and reached with his free hand to a tube of lubricant on the bedside table. With a practised hand, he flipped the cap off and squirted it over his fingers before inserting one slowly into the Doctor. All the while he still stroked the Doctor’s cock, making the man shift in his lap.

~Your good behaviour deserves a reward. It’s only because you’re such a good boy that I don’t take you down to Jack’s cell and order you to suck me off in front of him. Because you would, wouldn’t you? If I ordered it.~

The Doctor was clutching desperately at the Master now as he was stroked inside and out by skilled fingers.

~Yes! Yes, yes…anything…~

The Master stole a kiss from the panting mouth then removed his hands. The Doctor actually whined and pulled at the Master’s shoulders.

~On your elbows and knees.~

The Doc hurriedly complied, his ass in the air for the taking. The Master ran a hand over the flesh he was offered, pushing in a thumb again to see the Doctor writhe and beg for more. Then he pushed the man’s hips down flat onto the bed and thrust all the way in.

Jack couldn’t take his eyes away from the screen. The Master fucked the Doctor mercilessly, giving him pleasure until the other Time Lord was begging for a moment’s recovery, which he never received. The Doctor came and the Master didn’t stop, just kept fucking and teasing until the Doctor was hard and coming again, screaming his release into the pillow. When the Master finally grunted out an almighty orgasm, Jack thought it was the end of the film. But the Master laid on his back and pulled the Doctor over with him, making the Time Lord ride him until he’d reached a third orgasm, which he willingly licked off the Master’s chest when told to.

~I love you, Master.~

~Of course you do, you silly little thing.~

The Master kissed the Doctor on the forehead as he snuggled up to him. There were a few minutes of nothing, where the Master ran his fingers down the Doctor’s spine and the Doctor murmured some inaudible things. Eventually, Jack’s favourite Time Lord seemed to doze off comfortably against Harold Saxon, who carefully disentangled himself and walked over to the camera. 

The film ended.

“There now, don’t say I never give you anything,” the Master said with a smile, rising to his feet a little awkwardly. 

“Why? Why did you show me that?” Jack said desperately.

“It was a kindness,” the Master said in condescending tones. “Now you won’t be wondering what’s happening to the Doctor in months to come. You’ll know he isn’t hurt, he won’t get himself in trouble trying to rescue you. He’s mine now. You all are. Some more willingly than others.” He turned to leave, then spun back on one heel. “Oh, what the hell.” He pressed a few buttons on the camera and the screen flickered to life once more. “You know, I really am too nice for my own good. Have fun.” He winked and left Jack in the dark with the Doctor’s moans.

*

When he returned to the bedroom, he found the Doctor half-awake, watching him. The Master started to undress. “Didn’t wake you, did I, pet?”

The Doctor/John shook his head. “Woke when you left. Did he tell you anything?”

The Master draped his shirt over the chair and started undoing his trousers. “Not yet, but these things take time. It was nice to interrogate without inflicting pain for once though. Have you to thank for that.”

“You know I don’t like seeing people get hurt.”

“I know.” Strange, that. No matter how much the Doctor lost he was never different, like his ethics were coded into his DNA. The Master had taken so many memories that he’d been able to build a playmate from scratch, but he still hadn’t been able to do away with the Doctor’s innate goodness.

He climbed into the bed and the Doctor pressed up against him contentedly. “I thought you’d be sleeping with your wife tonight. Big day tomorrow.”

The Master smiled. “I’m taking you with me. It might not be safe down here.”

‘John’ frowned. “But you said the Toclafane were nice. They sound nice. Like something from a fairy tale.” He ran his fingers up and down Harry’s chest.

“Yes, but there might be difficulties and I might have to remain on the Valiant for a while. I’ll want you with me.”

“Okay. What time will it be again?”

“Eight.”

“I suppose we ought to sleep then,” ‘John’ said, sounding a little disappointed.

The Master smiled and pulled his Doctor even closer. “We don’t have to. You could earn your keep, if you like.”

Before the Doctor slid seductively down his body, the Master was treated to a deviant smirk that he knew ‘John’ had picked up from him.

“Just think, Harry, tomorrow the whole world might be calling you Master.”

The Time Lord smiled at his memory-impaired counterpart and ran his hand lovingly over his cheek.

“You’re the only one that matters…John.”


	2. Chapter 2

It had seemed like a fine idea at first. The Doctor would never rest until he’d put a stop to the Master’s schemes, no matter what torture the mad Timelord inflicted. He could destroy Earth and the Doctor would only find a way to bring it back. He would never submit as long as the Master hurt people. And the Master did so like hurting people. It dulled the drums a little.

But then inspiration had hit. It was their history that was the problem, they’d fallen into a pattern of good and evil and the Doctor had become too set in his ways to break the tradition. He wanted to, any idiot could see that. Sexual tension aside, the look of despair in his eyes when they confronted one another was enough to show what the Doctor really wanted. But he was too obsessed with doing the right thing to ever be truly happy. 

So the Master had erased their history of conflict and left the Doctor with no higher motive than to survive and try to fill the void within him. He’d left him with a group of thugs paid to brutalise him, so that Prime Minister Harry Saxon could waltz in like a knight in shining armour. The irony had almost cracked him up at the time. Grateful and desperate to please his saviour, lovely ‘John Smith’ had jumped at the offer to be his special companion. He’d almost laughed at that, too. The Doctor being companion to a quirky Timelord. It was too much.

And he’d used him to torture the freak, used him for pleasure, most of all used him to feel complete. The feel of the only other Timelord in the universe beneath him, wanting him, needing him… it was a high that couldn’t be beaten, even with the hostile take-over of the planet Earth.

Which he’d just accomplished.

Now he was wondering if he could have just made do with the Doctor or his favourite planet. It was starting to look like he couldn’t have everything. Not to his satisfaction, anyway. 

Shortly after the broadcast to Earth had ended, he sent everyone away. The guards had gone to their posts, Lucy had gone wherever it was that she went when he didn’t need her, and ‘John’…

John had spent the whole time looking out the window at the chaos, his back to the room and the Master. The Master poured two glasses of champagne and jumped up the steps, bouncing over to the amnesiac Doctor’s side. “Glass of bubbly?”

John turned to him. Tears were drying on his pretty face. He took a glass and gulped down the liquid like it was cold water, then handed the empty glass back to Harry. After a pause, he took the other glass and drank that too. The Master put the empty glasses to the side. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

John went back to staring out of the window. The Toclafane had stopped running riot now, but people were still screaming and sirens were still blaring. You could hear them, even all the way up here. Then the Master realised he’d left the television speakers on. The screaming was on the news. He went over and flicked off the telly, watching to see if the Doctor relaxed at all in the silence. He didn’t.

The Master wandered over and wrapped his arms around his pretty Timelord companion from behind. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

The Doctor’s body started to shake with sobs again. “You said they were nice.” He turned and shoved Saxon away, making him stumble. “YOU SAID!” He wiped angrily at his face, trying to get rid of the tears, but in the end just hiding behind his hands. The Master could just make out the words being mumbled into his hands – “You killed them all…” The Doctor sank to the floor, back against a console. “You killed them all…”

“Not all of them,” the Master said soothingly, kneeling beside the distraught Timelord. “There’s still a lot of humans left who won’t get hurt.”

“Murderer.”

The Master watched him cry for a few moments then went and re-filled one of the champagne glasses, bringing it to John to gulp down. Afterwards, the Doctor threw it hard across the room, making it smash against the far wall. “Feel better?” the Master asked.

“How can you be so calm?” John said, making eye contact for the first time since the Toclafane had arrived. “You really are mad. I thought Lucy was just jealous when she told me…”

“She told you I was mad?” the Master asked with a raised eyebrow. Lucy’s disrespect would cost her dearly.

“She said I should get out while I could. I didn’t know this was going to happen. How could I have known this would happen?”

The Master gently pulled ‘John’ into a hug. The so-human man cried into his shirt. He sighed. To think he’d actually deluded himself into believing the Doctor, in any form, would help him celebrate devastation. When the tears stopped, he sat back, only to see John was still shaking and staring into the distance. Slightly alarmed, he clicked his fingers. “Hey! John! John,” he shook him lightly, but this just made John curl up into a ball.

He’d broken him. The whole reason he’d wanted the Doctor was because Timelords were much less fragile than humans. He still remembered how easily Lucy had broken at the sight of humanity’s future. But now the Doctor was essentially human, he had lost the mental fortitude acquired over centuries.

Oh well. He’d still be a decent bed-partner. 

“Come on, John,” with great effort he pulled the Doctor to his feet and guided him to the door. “You need a good night’s sleep. I’m sure you’ll find it in yourself to forgive me in the morning.”

He walked him to the room that he’d selected for him and undressed the virtually-catatonic Doctor. He’d intended to innocently put John to bed, but the sight of his naked body was giving him new ideas. And who knew, maybe it would help? He pushed the man into a sitting position on the bed, then knelt on the floor before him. “John, look at me.”

He was obeyed without enthusiasm or question. The Master took hold of his cock and stroked slowly and firmly, wondering if the Doctor’s body would respond while his mind was absent. It wasn’t long before he got his answer, John’s length hardened in his hand. Though his gaze was still focused somewhere outside of reality, his pupils had dilated and his breath had quickened. The Master pondered over what could get John’s attention back where it belonged. “Since you’ve been such a good boy…”

He lapped gently at the head of John’s cock with his tongue. Sure enough, a moan from above told him this was the way to go about it. In his rent-boy persona, John had sucked the Master many times, once even beneath the desk while he gave a political broadcast. But the Master had never reciprocated until now. He sucked down as much as he could, straining his eyes up to see the Doctor’s face. Eyes closed in bliss now. Perfect. He hummed a little, earning a happy moan before sucking as hard as he could. It was only a few moments before the Doctor came into his mouth. The Master contemplated spitting, but thought it less messy to swallow. 

He stood up. “Better?”

John bit his lip and looked to be struggling not to cry again. The Master sat down beside him on the bed and put his arm around him. “You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you?”

“You’re insane,” John whispered. 

The Master grit his teeth and fought the urge to hit the Doctor in the face. That would hardly be conducive to a loving relationship. “If I’d known you’d react like this, I wouldn’t have killed them.”

John’s eyes narrowed at him. “How the hell did you think I’d feel?”

“They’ve never done you any favours. What could you possibly want from this world that I couldn’t give you?”

“I don’t have to want something from them to want them alive. It’s called compassion. Just because the world’s been cruel to me is no reason to be cruel back.”

The Master stood from the bed and walked to the door. “Most people would want revenge after having the life you did.”

“I don’t remember much of it, but I can tell you I’m not most people.”

The Master laughed. “Oh, that’s very true.” He opened the door and looked over his shoulder. “I won’t hurt anyone else. Go to sleep.”

He went to find Lucy.

*

John was shaken awake in the middle of the night by an attractive black woman. Lucy was standing behind her, mascara streaked in a way that suggested tears but didn’t quite obscure the gash on her cheekbone. “What?”

“Doctor, tell me you know who I am,” the pretty stranger said.

“Doctor?” John was confused for a moment, before realising where he’d heard that before. “No, Harry made me pretend to be someone called the Doctor, but it was just for…” he frowned. “Sorry, who are you?”

The woman sighed and stepped back. She did look familiar, he’d give her that. Lucy shrugged. “I told you. Harry’s had him like this for months.”

“How did he manage it?”

“I don’t know. Probably telepathy.”

John sat up in bed. “Excuse me, can one of you explain what the hell is going on? If Harry catches you here…” His eyes widened. “Wait a minute, you’re Martha Jones! The terrorist!” He opened his mouth to shout for the guards, but Martha grabbed his mouth and Lucy helped her hold him down. 

“Don’t shout, we need your help!”

He pushed up against their hold. “What do you mean? I won’t help you hurt him!”

“We don’t want to hurt him,” Martha said. “We just want to stop him. And I think you want that too.”

They let him sit up again. John examined the women in his room. “What makes you think I want that? You don’t even know me.”

Martha smiled. “Now that’s where you’re wrong.”

*

The Master returned to the bedroom, having taken his rage out on various objects and members of Martha’s family (who, let’s face it, were more expendable than most of his possessions). John was sitting up in bed waiting for him again. He didn’t look as traumatised as he had earlier.

“I’ve been thinking,” the man said, watching the Master carefully.

“Oh? Anything interesting?”

“I think I can forgive you for earlier. If it matters.”

The Master smiled and sat down beside the Doctor. “It does matter. It matters a lot to me. How did you come to this decision?”

“Well,” John looked sheepish. “It all depends really. You know you said you wouldn’t hurt anybody else?”

“Yes.” The Master wondered where this was going.

“I was thinking that over. If you can promise me that with the pressures of your position, you must…really care for me.” John looked slightly doubtful about the last part, so the Master tugged him into a tight hug.

“Of course. I’m always telling you that, aren’t I? I want you by my side as I rule this miserable world.”

“And I want to be there. But not if anyone else gets hurt. I don’t want to be part of an oppressive regime of terror.”

The Master kissed him on the neck. “It was never my intention to hurt anyone. But I had to show my power. Nobody will threaten my empire now. The healing of the population can begin.” He smiled reassuringly.

John still looked uneasy. “But what about the servants and the prisoners?”

“I’ve only got the Jones family and the freak in the cell.” John looked at him expectantly. “What?”

“You’ll be nice to the Jones’?”

The Master sighed and dropped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. He’d known from day one though, that John would be high maintenance. “I suppose. Starting now though. You can’t hold any of today’s beatings against me.”

“Beatings!?!” John stared at him in horror.

“They were giving me lip. Don’t look at me like that. I promise I’ll start giving them lunch breaks.”

John laid down with him, resting his head on the Master’s black shirt. “Thank you. Who’s the freak in the cell that you referred to?”

“He’s the Captain that we made the pornography for.”

“Oh. You haven’t got any information from him, then?”

“Not yet, but then I have been a bit busy. I must say,” the Master started to toy with John’s hair, “I thought you would be more supportive than you have been. This is probably the most important day of my life and I thought I could count on you.”

“I’m sorry, Master. I’ll make it up to you.” John looked up at him with puppy-dog eyes. “What can I do?”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” the Master said with a leer.

John looked away for a moment, a pensive expression on his face. Then he looked back suddenly. “I know! I could talk to your prisoner!”

“What?”

“You said I looked like his friend. I bet I could get whatever information you need from him. I’ll just tell him I’m doing this to keep him safe or something.” He bounced excitedly. “What do you think?”

“If he does believe it and tell you what I need to hear, what then?” the Master asked, smiling at John’s enthusiasm despite his doubts. It was better than seeing him righteous and miserable.

“Well then you have to let him go.” John’s excitement died at the look he received. “No?”

“No. He’s too dangerous to let loose.” The Master quickly thought his words through and sat up so he could look into John’s eyes better. “I said he was a terrorist, but more specifically, he has a vendetta against me. That’s why I had to capture him before today, because I was worried he’d ruin everything in his quest to destroy me. If I give him his freedom, he’ll only carry on trying to kill me. You don’t want that, do you?”

John shook his head. “No. Of course I don’t want you hurt. Maybe just keep him in a nicer cell?”

The Master smiled. “You are too soft, you know that?” He pulled John into a kiss. “But I wouldn’t recognise you if you were any other way.” He stood up and straightened his shirt, then held out a hand to help John up. “Let’s sort this out now rather than later. I’ll explain what you need to find out from Captain Jack Harkness.”

*

Something had happened today, something bad. Tish had been crying when she’d fed him, the guards had been shaken by something. It didn’t bode well for the outside world. Had Harold Saxon finally gone through with his plot to take over the planet?

The door opened and the man of the hour walked in with the Doctor on his arm like a trophy boy. Just when Jack thought he’d accomplished apathy, the Master would bring the Doctor into all this. A comment about him, a sinister threat to his wellbeing, but never before his actual presence. The Doctor was glancing around curiously. “It’s a bit grimy in here, Harry.”

“It’s supposed to be, love. He’s a prisoner, not a guest.” The Doctor pouted at him, so Saxon kissed him fiercely. When he let go, the Doctor looked slightly flustered. Then a phone rang. Frowning, Saxon pulled it from his jacket pocket. “I have to take this. You’ll be alright with the good Captain for a minute?”

The Doctor nodded with a smile. “Sure. We’ll have a chat.” They watched Saxon leave the room, then the Doctor hurried over to him.

“Jack, how are you holding up?” he whispered, looking over Jack’s nude body at the various wounds Saxon had inflicted.

“Not as well as you, obviously,” Jack said bitterly. How could the Doctor claim to care about his injuries when he was fucking the culprit?

The Doctor’s raised eyebrow showed he’d noticed the bitterness. “In my defence, I’ve had amnesia for at least three months.”

“I saw a video that suggests different,” Jack said. He’d had to watch it seven times now. He couldn’t close his eyes without seeing the Doctor on his knees.

“The video was staged to hurt you. I thought I was playing a role.” The Doctor sighed. “I’m sorry I was so easily used. You know I would never willingly hurt you if I was in possession of myself.”

“So how’s life been for you all this time?” Jack asked, curious now to know what had really been going on.

“The Master wiped my memories and dumped me in a slum to act as the rent-boy for a gang of thugs before bringing me here to be his own personal sex-slave.” The Doctor didn’t make eye contact. “Could have been worse, I suppose.”

“How did you remember who you were?” He couldn’t ask about the other stuff. That could be discussed much later.

“Martha’s about. Lucy’s hiding her.”

“Lucy Saxon?”

“Yes, she’s scared of what’s happening. It’s looking more and more as though she doesn’t have a place in her husband’s new world order. He hasn’t shared his bed with her in over a week.”

“You’re the lucky focus of his attention?” Jack asked sarcastically.

“Yes. Lucky me.” The Doctor paused in his examination of a particularly nasty-looking gash on Jack’s thigh. “To be fair though, he has been good to me. Better than I’d expect from him in retrospect.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that he’s a psychopath who hates humanity,” Jack said, making sure the Doctor wasn’t losing sight of the grand scheme of things.

“Oh no, of course not. I don’t intend to let him get away with this, Jack. Especially after today.” The Doctor stared into the distance with haunted eyes. 

“Doctor?” He caught his attention. “What happened today? I haven’t heard a damn thing, stuck in here.”

“He killed people. A lot of people.” The Doctor took a deep breath. “And I didn’t do a bloody thing to stop him. Just stood there helpless like a….”

“Human?” Jack offered.

The Doctor laughed bitterly. “Yes, I suppose so.” There was silence. The Doctor placed a reassuring hand on an unmarred patch of skin on Jack’s chest. “I honestly thought I was human. And that Harry Saxon was a good man. I couldn’t believe what Martha and Lucy were telling me until I checked my chest like they said and found two heartbeats. Funny, how you can go months without feeling the second thumping in your chest. I just thought it was vibration from my left heart. Once I realised that I wasn’t human, old memories came flooding back.”

Jack sighed. “He’ll return soon.”

“No, this is a ruse to leave me with you so I can get information out of you. He’s promised to stop hurting you if you tell me what you know.”

“About what?”

“The whereabouts of Martha.”

“But…”

“Make something up. I’ll do it, don’t worry. I just wanted to see you were safe. This will all be over soon.”

“And he’s just agreed to leave me alone if you do this?” Jack asked, disbelief colouring his voice.

“He’s agreed to stop hurting the Jones family as well. And the people of Earth.”

“What did you do to him?”

The Doctor shrugged. “For some reason he seems keen on keeping me happy.”

Jack considered this for a few moments.

“Maybe you’re a really good lay.”

*

The Master was laying in bed reading a book when John returned from his little visit to the chamber of horrors. He pulled back the covers and gestured towards the bed. John smiled. “I’m a little over-dressed for bed.”

The Master dropped the book carelessly over the side of the bed. “Then strip. Do it slowly.” He put his arms up to cushion his head from the wall and sat to watch the show.

John looked a little more shy than usual, but eventually he started to unbutton his shirt. Glancing up at the Master from time to time, he removed his shirt carefully and put it to the side. 

“Best bend over to untie those trainers of yours,” the Master said, reaching one hand under the blanket when he was obeyed and John’s trouser-clad arse was presented to him.

John kicked off his trainers and socks, then paused with a hand on the zip of his fly. “Any particular way you want these to come off, Master?”

The Master groaned and moved the hand on his cock slower. At this rate he’d be spent before John even got in the bed. “Just keep your eyes on me while you do it.”

John grinned then did as he was told, slowly sliding the material down his body, revealing his skin inch by inch. No underwear again. The Master licked his lips.

“Good boy. Now come to your Master.”

John walked over to the bed and pulled the cover back. The Master swallowed and took his hand from his erection, spreading his legs slightly to make room for the Doctor to kneel there. “Put that pretty mouth to good use.”

John looked up, eyes twinkling in a way that let the Master feel for a second that this was the virtuous and noble Doctor, willing to respond to his depraved will.

“Yes, Master.”

And oh, the Doctor was too good at this to be so bloody chaste. It wasn’t right, withholding this kind of talent. He rested his hands on top of the Doctor’s head and let them move with the motion of his head. 

“Mmm, enough now.”

John pulled back and licked his lips. “Prepare yourself for me,” he said, grabbing some lube from the nightstand and tossing it over to John, who flipped it open and squeezed it from the tip of his finger down to his hand. Keeping eye contact, which unnerved the Master now for some reason, he pushed inside himself. His eyes slipped closed as he pleasured himself, but still the Master sensed something off in his expression, the set of his jaw. 

John straddled him and sank onto his cock. “Ohhh, Master…”

The Master put his hands on John’s hips and helped guide his sensual movements. Whatever was wrong could be investigated later. Hedonism was the current priority.

The Master moved his hands up John’s sides, trailing his fingertips gently up to his chest until he had a hand over each heartbeat. And as the tension built inside him, the Master decided he could make do with this, just having the Doctor entirely subservient to his will. He didn’t need Earth, just this. They could just stay in here, until the drums went away.

He took hold of the Doctor’s erection and stroked. The Doctor made a beautiful moaning noise and thrust more frantically. The Master groaned at the sight of his Doctor losing control and murmured, “come for me.” John obeyed with a scream and the Master let that vision carry him over the edge.

Returning to the real world after his orgasm, he noticed John looking at him strangely. “What?”

“You said…”

The Master went over the last few moments in his head. Oh dear, he had, hadn’t he? He shrugged. “Surprised?”

“You love me?” John looked shocked to the core.

“Why else would I take such good care of you?” The Master said with a smile, trying to act like he hadn’t just blurted out his innermost feelings on climax. He could never, ever speak those words to the Doctor while the other Timelord was his usual moral and smug self, but as sweet dependent John there was no harm in it.

John lay down beside him, pressed against his side. “I love you too. More than you can know.”

He’d sounded far too sombre when he said that. But they could talk about it in the morning. It had been a very long day and the Master wanted nothing more than to get some sleep with John.

*

“You aren’t having second thoughts, are you?” Jack asked the Doctor. They stood, along with Martha, near the Master’s unconscious body. He’d been heavily drugged by the Doctor, who was staring at the man with an undecipherable expression.

“A bit late for it,” the Timelord replied. “What’s done is done.”

“Can you do it,” Martha asked him. “Can you stop him being mad?”

The Doctor sat on the bed beside the Master. “I have to. We don’t have any other alternative. Even as Professer Yana the drums were giving him grief. It wouldn’t be right to take his memories and leave him nothing but drumming.” He put his fingers gently on the Master’s forehead and dove into the storm.

*

He woke up to a pair of dark, expressive eyes staring into his. Although the man was a stranger, he felt no fear. The man radiated honesty and goodness somehow. The people standing near the door didn’t have the same effect on him, just this one man.

“Who am I?” he asked, feeling a sudden alarm at mentally reaching into a black hole where his life should have been.

“Your name is Harry Saxon. You’ve done some bad things Harry, but we’re going to help you sort it all out.” Whatever he’d done couldn’t have been that bad if this friendly man was willing to help him.

“Who are you?” he asked, suddenly desperate to know the stranger’s identity.

“The Doctor,” the man responded, smiling a little sadly. “But you can call me John.”


End file.
